MANSTEALING FOR FAT GIRLS michelle embree
by Haydelle
Summary: Sixteen year old Angie is called Lezzylard at school. Her best friend is a lesbin. Plus she's a fat pig with punkers as friends. She wouldn't even want to be friends with herself. : A story about life as a teenager.And finally a story that isn't proper :


9

MFG: Chapter 1

"What do you think you're doing?" My mom stood in the doorway of her bedroom.

"I have a zit; I wanted to cover it up." I tried to look innocent.

"Oh, no you don't. No makeup. Get to school."

She left and I dabbed at the zit with her concealer.

Mom got up with me everyday. Even though she didn't have to be at work until eleven and I was sixteen, she still did it. She made my lunches too. Lunches I rarely ate, anymore. Not that I told her that.

"Angie, take an umbrella. It's going to rain." She slid a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into a brown paper bag.

"I'm not carrying a big, stupid, green umbrella, Mom." I could swear she didn't know anything.

"Fine, be stubborn." She stuck the lunch bag in my hand.

"Hey, Mom, I'm gonna go over to Shelby's tonight. I'll be home late, okay?"

"No. Not tonight. Rudy is coming for dinner. I want us all to eat together."

"Why? That guy is an asshole," I said.

"All children hate their mother's boyfriends," She said, mostly to herself.

"That can't be true Mom."

"And don't say asshole, Angie."

Of course, she was right about the rain. Halfway to started to literally dump. I dunked under over the auto parts store. It wasn't really a canvas awning, just a roof made to look like a canvas awning.

I don't know why I bothered trying to wait the rain out, I was already soaking wet.

"Whattya' doin' just standing around?" Shelby asked, rolling up the passenger window of her mother's car. I gratefukk jumped into the backseat.

"Why don't you take the bus when it rains, Angie?" Shelby's mother looked at me in the rearview mirror. She was more annoyed than curious. And with her perfect makeup and sculpted red hair, she was the kind of mom that looked most natural when annoyed.

"I forgot my umbrella," I lied.

Everybody hated the bus, but I really hated it. In seventh grade Mike Forester leaned over the bus seat in front of me, put a fake microphone up to my lips: So, what's it like being a lesbian pig? He asked. I didn't want to cry but the tears came anyway. Everyone laughed. I mean everyone. Sweat exploded over my body and all I wanted was death. Just death.

"What did you bring for lunch?" Shelby asked.

"Peanut butter."

"You girls should eat some hot food today," Shelby's mom said, using one perfectly manicured hand to dig some bills out of her purse.

"Thanks, Mom." Shelby took the money and gave me a smile.

We would use it to buy some cokes or candy bars or play skee ball after school. We definitely would not use it to eat lunch. Neither of us ever went very far into the cafeteria, even when we had the same lunch period.

We ate on the edge of the room. We would sneak just inside the door take a seat at the table with the kids from remedial everything. The kids who were either functionally retarded or on the verge of climbing a rock tower and picking people of at random.

There should be a horror movie called _Cafeteria_. A hundred teenagers trapped inside with nothing to do. And when the popular kids get tired of being so wonderful and pretty and cool, they start slowly killing the rejects by eating little slices of them. Little raw slices, with sides of powdered mash potatoes and canned green beans.

"Mom, just let us out here," Shelby said as we pulled into the big parking lot.

"Don't be silly. It's pouring rain, Shelby," Her mother said.

"C'mon, Mom, just let us out."

"What is wrong with you? You ashamed of me or something?"

"No." Shelby's breath made a hazy spot on the window. If only that had been the problem.

"Good morning, lesbos!" Curtis Alroy threw his hands out to Shelby and me as we got out of the car. There was a couple of snort sounds from the crowd and Shelby slammed the car door shut as her mother tried to see who said the lesbo thing. You can try to spare your mother knowledge of how horrible your like is, but they still insist on being a witness.

The first bell rang. We had one minute to get to art class.

"C'mon," Shelby said. Her flannel shirt and hair were damp from the rain, but everything else about her was dry. I wanted to scream. To scream at everyone, including Shelby. Shelby who had to go be a lesbian and make every stupid thing in my life even more difficult.

Shelby threw her flannel shirt over the back of her chair. Her lips pursed, and her eyes went that deep jade they turned when she got upset. She hated her Mom knowing that everyone teased her, especially since she figured her Mom was just waiting for that shoe to drop-the gay shoe that is- anyway. Gosh, how could I ever want to scream at Shelby? I very nearly asked her why the hell she was my friend, but changed my mind.

Once Shelby and I sat down I said, " you know flannel is toxic when it's wet right?"

"What?"

"Yeah, it like, turns nuclear. That's what they used in Hiroshima. I'm serious."

"Flannel?"

"Yeah, they load up all those missiles with wet lesbians and then KABOOM!"

"Shut the fuck up." Shelby smiled. And most of the time that was all I truly cared about.

The whole lesbian thing started back in grade school. Back when Shelby got her first little boy haircut. She showed up for school and everyone started in immediately. Started calling her a dyke and a lesbo and a tuna hound and anything else they could come up with.

Everyone has hair like this on the coast, Shelby explained to me. It just takes forever for St. Louis to get with the times. You watch, everyone will be doing this soon enough.

Of course, that never happened. The bob came into fashion but that was as short as any of the girls ever went. Shoulder length. And then there was Shelby with her virtual crew cut. Since I was her best friend, I caught shit for it too. Which didn't help at all with the rate I was gaining weight.

Shelby never did let her hair grow much past her ears. She kept it cropped and spiked up with mousse that her mom sold in her beauty supply store. It looked real cool, but everyone teased her about it anyways. People begin in hell. This is one thing of which I am certain. I got through that day the way I got through every other day of school: braced. Braced for anything, absolutely anything. An insult, a million insults. Maybe Curtis Alroy would grab me and drag me into a bathroom where Mike Forester and Troy Mulligan would pull my clothes off, laugh at me. They could even fuck me. Fucking a pig isn't so bad! Shelby says my imagination is over active. But only when it comes to very bad things happening to me.

When the last bell of the day rang I met Shelby in the same place I always did, by the sad little tree on the back of the campus. She was watching a couple of people knock a tennis ball around the court.

"Isn't there a tennis court at Covington?" she asked without turning to see who I was.

"I don't know if it can be called a tennis court anymore."

"Why?"

"Hasn't had a net for a couple of years, and the ground is coming up out of the court in a couple of places. Oh, and somebody spray painted big pot leaves and OZZY all over it.

We walked along the wide road that served as a midway between strings of strip malls and fast food restaurants.

"Let's get some sodas with the money my mom gave me," Shelby

Said, putting the dollars in my hand. We swerved toward the liquor store next to the karate shop everyone was always breaking into.

Inez Oliver was outside the liquor store, leaning into a pay phone, talking with her hands.

"I'm not having your rape baby, DAD! You either give me the money for an abortion of I'm gonna have you KILLED!

Shelby and I shot each other a look.

"Hey, you guys!" Inez hung up the phone immediately when she saw us. There was never anyone on the other end. Inez Oliver used your standard payphone to make artistic statements.

Shelby and I knew Inez from the lunch table, where she fit into the most-likely-to-start-picking-people-off-at-random category.

"What's up Inez?" Shelby asked.

"Oh, I was just. . ." Inez noticed a man walking out of the store.

"I was just on the phone with my grandma, telling her I don't give a fuck HOW sick she is, there's NO WAY I'm gonna SHOOT her! Fuck that!"

"Yeah, fuck that," Shelby said, looking every bit serious. The man walking by straightened but did not look our way.

"So what're you guys doin'?" Inez asked shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"I'm gonna get us a couple of sodas," I said.

"Try and get some beer," Inez whisper-yelled.

"Hurry up," Shelby told me, and set about rearranging book bag as if it was terribly important.

When I came out of the store Shelby was alone.

"Where's Inez?" I asked.

"She got in that pickup over there." Shelby pointed. "Some guy. Rough lookin'. I guess he's got beer or pot or something."

I popped the top on my Coke. "You think she's a hooker?"

"I dunno. Like a beer whore?"

"It's possible." I shrugged.

"Yeah. I guess it is, isn't it?" Shelby looked after the pickup as It pulled out of the parking lot.

"Maybe she knows Karen Dryer," I said

"Karen wasn't a hooker. That was just some nasty shit those assholes started."

"I know. It was just a joke," I defended.

Shelby shrugged at me and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

"Gosh, I hope Robyn's not home," Shelby said.

"Is your mom home tonight?"

"No. she's at the shop until ten. I think Robyn is supposed to be there too, but she only works when she needs money."

Robyn was twenty-four and lived at home. Her only job was occasionally putting in some hours at her mother's beauty supply shop.

Robyn was to be considered dangerous, if not, in fact armed.

"Wanna go to the 7-11 and play some pinball?" I asked.

"Sure.."

The 7-11 had an Elvira pinball machine. It was pretty cool. Elvira would say these weird sexy things when you did something good like: Oh, that's how I like it or that's it, just like that. The board had a picture of Elvira leaning over and showing that amazing cleavage. Elvira was solely responsible for Shelby getting good at pinball. Even I had to admit, it was exciting to look at when all the lights lit up.

We played pinball for a pretty long time on the money we had.

But then these guys started to hassle us because they wanted the machine and it threw our games off enough that we ran out of balls and money. It was time to go anyway.

"So you wanna check the Robyn situation of do something else? Shelby asked.

"I can't hang out tonight. Rudy is coming over. I get to sit there and eat dinner with him.

"Is that the guy with the sleazy mustache?"

"Yep. That's Rudy. Mom seems pretty into him."

"Gross. He looks at me like he wants to be my pimp," Shelby said.

"He probably wants to pimp us both."

"Robyn has a new boyfriend too."

"Lives with his Mom?"

"Worse. Doesn't live anywhere."

"Man did Robyn take a class on how to pick a real winner? Or did that just come to her naturally?"

"Unlike her hair. I believe it's natural."

Robyn's hair had been a weird, unnatural blonde for a long as I can remember. The first time I met her, she was thirteen and I was only fie. Her hair was a sharp yellow with visibly dark roots, layered on each side and plastered with so much hairspray she looked like she had shutters.

She was in the passenger seat waiting for her mother to pay for some gas. Shelby and I were in the back seat. I couldn't take my eyes off her Robyn's profile. She seemed so grown up with her blue eye shadow and bored expression.

"What are you lookin' at?" She turned around and asked me.

"What?"

"WHAT are you LOOKIN' at?" She demanded

I started to cry

When their mother got back to the car, she asked me what was wrong, but I just kept crying. Robyn flashed a grin, and told her Shelby pinched me. Shelby protested but I couldn't back her up. I couldn't say anything; I just sat there heaving and crying. Shelby got in trouble and I felt even worse.

I knew Rudy was already in Mom's apartment when I got there. I could smell him. Not that he stank in a special way. It was the smell Aunt Jean called man grease. According to her, if you lived with a man you had to not only get used to his stench, but his oils too: You can't get man grease outta yer sheets. You can wash 'em a hundred times. Stuff never comes out.

Aside from Rudy's man grease, the apartment smelled heavily of sauerkraut. It's really no wonder I wound up fat as I did. Mom only liked pork products. When I smelled the sauerkraut, I knew we'd be having polish sausage and potatoes. Probably a store-bought chocolate cake for desert too. I took a deep breath.

"Hi, Angie. How are you?" Rudy talked to me like I was stupid.

"Fine." I said as little to him as possible.

"Don't you ever smile, girl?" He asked, sipping off a can of Busch beer.

I gave him a wide ridiculous grin and headed into the kitchen.

"Hi, sweetie." Mom said wearing a tight red dress and her face was made up. She looked so pretty. Slender and just pretty.

"You didn't have to get dressed up for me," I teased.

"Funnny. Now got put on a nice shirt and wash your face, dinner is almost ready."

I felt heavy. I hated walking through any room Rudy was in. I avoided eye contact, but I could hear his head swivel to watch me. I changed out of my favorite rolling stones t-shirt with the big red mouth on it. I put a man's button down shirt on because mom said it made me look thinner.

"Angie, baby, will you get three water glassed down and put ice in them. Oh, you look so nice. I think you've lost some more of your baby fat.

"Mom, it's not baby fat anymore," I said, reaching for the big glasses.

I sat at the card table that had functioned as a dining room table since we moved in. Rudy was already smiling sideways at me.

"Do you like surprises, Angie?" He asked. My guts seized up and I took a sip of Mom's always too-sweet tea.

"Not really." I searched my mother's face.

"Let's eat first." Mom smiled, waving away Rudy's impatience.

I kept my mouth shut while Rudy gave us a blow0by-blow account of his day at the Chrysler plant.

". . .well he's a shit head. They always make the stupidest motherfucker they can find as a supervisor. Nobody else would do all that work for the nothin' they pay."

"Did I meet him? Was he at the company picnic?"

"Yeah, that's right, wife's pregnant. You met the big dummy."

I pushed my plate away.

"Oh, now you gotta eat more than that, Angie," Rudy said. His eyes scrutinized my plate. I looked at the food, then back to Rudy with a shrug.

"Yes, sweetie, I made plenty," Mom said. Of course she made plenty. She always did. Mounds of bacon, piles of potatoes, buckets of mac and cheese, not to mention the never-ending supply of freezer pies.

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

"Don't be silly." Rudy grabbed my plate and loaded it with pieces of sausage, potatoes, and sauerkraut. It was a mountain of food I couldn't possibly eat. The plate smacked the table as he handed it back, little squiggly strands of sauerkraut slopped greasy over the side.

"Now, be a good girl and clean your plate. Your mother worked hard on this nice meal for us."

"Oh, no. this is the easiest thing to make. It was no trouble at all." Mom shook her head.

"Rita, a growing girl needs to eat, instead of actin' vain about how she looks."

I stared at the plate of food for a long minute. When I looked up Rudy was watching me, fork suspended over his own plate.

"Go on and eat." He waved the fork at me.

"What's the surprise?" I demanded from my mother.

"Let's wait for desert, baby."

"No. what's the surprise? Tell me now."

"Well rudy and I have decided to get married."

"When?"

"In April."

I counted the months in my mind; five months of peace left. I took a deep breath and pushed my plate away, again.

"It'll take some getting used to, I know. But it will work out," Mom said.

"And besides." Rudy broke in. "Until then, I'm moving in you won't have to change schools this year. I'll start bringing my stuff over tomorrow. Then over summer, we'll find a big house to buy."

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Peace was a thing of the past.

"You've always wanted to live in a big house haven't you, Angie? You used to talk about it all the time when you were a little girl," Mom said.

I nodded slowly, going simultaneously numb and hateful. My mother was selling me out for a house slathered with man grease.


End file.
